


Pocket Doc

by Dork5ever612



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Alien Technology, Aliens, Allen is stupid, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shrinking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dork5ever612/pseuds/Dork5ever612
Summary: A missing persons case sends Allen and Michael to a small town in southern Michigan, where they find a strange device. When it's accidentally activated, our boys might have a problem on their hands too big to solve…I wasn't gonna write this but we started talking about this idea on the PBB discord and I have no self control.





	1. Mistakes Are Made

To be honest, Allen had absolutely no idea what he was looking at.  
   
They'd found some sort of machine in the middle of the woods: a horrendously bent and broken thing, made of something that _looked_ like iron, but slightly… wrong. He couldn't figure out what was off about it, but the material just seemed odd.  
   
The professor took to examining the strange thing, looking for some clue as to what it was or how it worked, as Michael swept the area for signs of their missing people. It was about pocket sized, and looked like some sort of dish or antenna, with nothing but a screen attached. No buttons, no switches… nothing.  
   
All it took was a quick swipe and the machine was running— far too fast for the doctor to react. One second he was wiping the dirt and grime from the surface, the next he was flat on his back, blinking the stars from his vision.  
   
“Doc!!!” There was no other description for the exclamation other than _booming_. The noise left his ears ringing as he struggled to stand against what seemed to be a rising earthquake. Soon enough a shadow fell over him, and his heart rate spiked as something _large_ loomed over him. “Doc, what… happened?”  
   
Allen scrambled for purchase as he was enveloped by something… soft and warm? That couldn't be right. He shifted into full panic mode, fumbling around blindly for his partner.  
   
“M— Michael?!”  
   
“Whoa, hey, it's ok. You're ok.” The captain's quivering baritone voice rumbled above him, like thunder. No, this definitely can't be right… “What the _hell_ did you do?”  
   
Hesitantly, Hynek's eyes traveled far, _far_ upwards, to the source of the sound. The scene that met his eyes was entirely beyond reason. What he saw was, by all means, a giant: but, rather than some gruesome creature straight out of a fairytale, the features of that giant face— so large and so _close_ that he had to observe each feature one by one— all added up to none other than the caring and concerned expression of one Captain Michael J. Quinn.  
   
“Doc? You're not gonna pass out on me right?” The calm yet low voice, which he now recognized was a whisper, shook him out of his stupor, forcing him to realize that it was real. Everything that was happening was _real_.  
   
“Oh, uh, yes— I mean, no! I don't know!” He curled in on himself, covering his face with his hands as he struggled to breath. An anxiety attack.  
   
“Hey, Allen, calm down! You're alright! I— shit.” Large appendages— _fingers_ — curled around his back, the thumb rubbing into his side in what was _supposed_ to be a calming manner. This couldn't be real. It was scientifically _impossible_. “Allen, listen to me. I need you to stay calm, breathe in time with my— my hand. Ok? In… out.”  
   
Michael rubbed up and down as he spoke, demonstrating the actions himself, causing the air around him to turn hot and smell faintly of cigarettes. Allen tried to reciprocate through his constricted throat.  
   
“Ok, good, just… just breath. I'll figure this out. I promise.”  
   
Everything shifted as the captain stood up, and all of the motion put Allen's head in a spin. He screwed his eyes shut, trying not to think about how far the ground was or how his lungs shouldn't be able to properly absorb the amount of oxygen they need, and—  
   
The captain's thumb began stroking his hair, slowly and gently, grounding him and pulling him back to reality.  
   
As the captain whispered calming words to him the adrenaline slowly wore off, leaving him with quivering limbs and shaky breathing, fatigue closing in on him. At some point he'd been shifted so his side and against Quinn's chest, the pilot's right hand cupped under and around him, thumb still combing through his hair.  
   
“Michael?” The professor called feebly, getting a sick feeling to his stomach as his eyes are met by far larger ones in a swift motion. “I— I don't think I can survive long like this. It's scientifically impossible for a living being to function properly at even _half_ of its original size, so, theoretically—”  
   
“Whoa, wait, Allen, l— let's not overthink this! Ok, maybe… maybe this thing really _is_ alien tech, and they've found a way to shrink things that we didn't even consider! Or maybe this is just some weird government project that somehow disobeys the laws of physics! Or— or—” Michael stammered, seemingly trying to convince himself of his ideas more than the doctor.  
   
“Biology.”  
   
“Or— what?”  
   
“It's the laws of biology. Not physics.” Hynek deadpanned, looking away from the encompassing face with a heavy sigh.  
   
“But listen. _Assuming_ I'm right, and I don't have long to live, or… in case something happens and I get eaten by a bird or something—” The captain's grimace at the thought was impossible to miss, but Allen ignored it. “I wanted to say that it's been an honor. Working with you, and getting to know you. Despite all the stress it's caused me… I'm glad I agreed to help you with Project Blue Book, because I— I got to spend time with you.”  
   
He fixed Michael with a bittersweet smile, the captain staring down at him with a shocked expression and damp eyes. He quickly turned away as he began to tear up.  
   
“Come on, don't… don't say that crap, I'm afraid I'm gonna soak you.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes with his free hand, choking on a laugh. “You're gonna be fine. You _have_ to be. But… yeah. I like working with you too, Allen.”  
   
The two fell silent, Hynek leaning heavily on Quinn's chest. The captain looked at the machine, from a safe distance, seemingly deep in thought. After a long while he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
   
“Hey, Doc? How would you feel about resting in my pocket a while? I mean, I should probably keep both hands free in case something happens, so…”  
   
Allen's muscles tensed. On the one hand, having a warm, dark place to get some rest didn't sound too bad: but, on the other, he really didn't want to sit in a _pocket._  However, in the end, he supposed it was better than staying out in the open.  
   
“Uh… yeah, that's a good idea…”  
   
Michael shot him a look, bringing the doctor to eye level with a questioning expression.  
   
“Are you sure? You don't have to if you don't want to.”  
   
“I'm fine, just… well, I've never been in a pocket before.”  
   
The pilot chuckled lightly, nodding before he lowered Hynek to his chest, tilting his hand and pulling on the pocket to create a large enough opening for the doctor to crawl into. To say Allen was hesitant would be an absolute understatement. He sat by the edge for a long while, staring into the dark chasm below. His head was still spinning from his earlier anxiety, but Michael stood by patiently. After a short while, though, he nudged the professor forward, gently coaxing him into the small space.  
   
It didn't take long for Allen to find a somewhat comfortable position in the stiff fabric. Once he was still, the cover flap fell shut, cutting off the last of the light leaking in. A light pressure curled around his side for a second as Michael affirmed that he was ok. The reverberations from his voice carried through his chest, making the doctor shiver at the sensation.  
   
“You good in there Doc?”  
   
“I— I think so. Not very comfortable… but it's certainly better than staying on your hand.” Michael chuckled at his words— a low and rumbling sound, bubbling from his core and shaking his shoulders. For the small doctor, the sensation didn't feel dissimilar to the gait of a horse; he couldn't help his own weak laughter at the thought.  
   
He quickly became accustomed to the rhythm of Michael's footsteps, the rise and fall of his breathing, and the thrum of his heartbeat. Occasionally he'd stop to look at something, or stoop down to search the ground for other victims of the strange contraption. Sometimes he would mutter something to himself or Allen, and a few times he put a hand over his chest to make sure the doctor was still there, or remind himself that all of that had really _happened_.  
   
Eventually Allen drifted off to sleep in the warm confines of the pocket, curled up and leaning heavily onto his partner's chest, letting the gentle swaying and thrumming pulse to lull him into a deep slumber. He hadn't been sleeping well since the incident with Fuller, so he was pleasantly surprised to awaken feeling relatively well rested.  
   
He vaguely registered the dull roar of the engine and quiet tune of the radio as he shook the haziness of sleep from his head. It wasn't until he'd attempted to stretch out that he remembered where he was.  
   
“Hey, Doc, you awake?” A soft voice murmured in his ears, and once again he shivered at the odd sensation of the sound reverberating through him.  
   
“Ugh, yeah, what time is it?” He yawned as he made an attempt to stand, the fabric wobbly under his feet. He slung his arms over the hem in an effort to steady himself.  
   
“What was that? Couldn't really hear ya.”  
   
Allen swallowed past the lump in his throat, the words unsettling his stomach. Of _course_ Michael couldn't hear him, his voice was too small to properly carry.  
   
“I asked what time it was…!” He tried, a bit louder this time.  
   
“Oh, uh… 16:50. Er, almost 5.”  
   
“Wow, I've been out for a while… Where are we heading?”  
   
“Toy store. There's gotta be one around here somewhere, and we need to get you some new clothes in case this thing doesn't blow over soon. Then we hit the liquor store, because I _really_ need a drink...”  
   
Hynek laughed, pushing the pocket's cover behind him and off of his face, squinting in the light and shaking his head slightly.  
   
“I'm inclined to say I need one too, but I'm not sure drinking anything other than water at this size would be a good idea.”  
   
“Yeah, that seems pretty reasonable. Anything else I should get you?” Michael looked down at him once he'd parked in front of a small shop, windows decorated with dollhouses and stuffed animals, as well as model rockets and other toys.  
   
“A proper bed. I think I got scoliosis just from sleeping in your pocket.” Allen muttered jokingly, stretching his back for emphasis.  
   
“Yeah, alright. Should probably get some dishes and silverware too… if they have any that'll actually work.” Michael got out of the car as he spoke, pulling the flap back over Allen's head so that he couldn't be seen. The miniaturized doctor ducked instinctively to make himself less visible as the shop's bell dinged, the cashier giving Quinn a friendly greeting.  
   
“Hello, welcome to Delilah's Dollhouse! Is there anything I can help you with today?”  
   
“Yeah, do you know where I can find some doll-sized accessories? My niece's birthday is coming up and I thought I could get her some new stuff while I was away.” Michael lied easily in his usual polite, for-the-public tone.  
   
“Of course, you can find the doll stuff in the third aisle, to the left.”  
   
“Thanks.” Allen felt the slight jolt from his terse nod before the captain swiftly turned, heading straight to the indicated area.  
   
“Alright, it's safe. No one's around here.” Michael whispered, lifting the pocket's cover and tapping gently on his small partner's chest, goading him to peer over the edge of his hiding place. “I need your help picking this stuff out. I wanna make sure we get the right size.”  
   
Hynek took a long moment to consider the hand held out in front of him, looking around the small shop anxiously. Someone could easily walk in and see him, or the lady at the front desk could walk back to do something and he wouldn't have time to hide.  
   
“Are you—” He whispered back, pausing and resuming at a level Michael could hear. “Are you sure it's safe? If someone sees me—”  
   
“You go limp, and I tell them you're a doll I brought for reference, or I hide you somewhere safe. I won't let anyone get their hands on you.” His voice turned hard towards his last sentence, defensive. Like he was afraid someone would grab him right then.  
   
“Alright, but just… try to make sure no one sees me. I'm a bit worried I'll fall if I go limp…” He bit his lip, staring down at the long fall below him.  
   
“I'll catch you if you do. I promise, I won't let _anything_ happen to you.”  
   
Allen slowly crept onto the offered palm, eyes flitting nervously towards the front of the store.  
   
“Wh— What if someone sees you trying to hide me and they think you're stealing?”  
   
“Why would an Air Force pilot need to steal a doll?”  
   
“Have you seen the way locals treat us _?_ ” The doctor hissed, clambering onto the nearest shelf and turning to look up at the captain as he shrugged.  
   
“Fair point. I'll try to be careful.” Michael muttered, reaching up to grab something out of Hynek's view. “Now help me find some Allen-sized accessories. The sooner we find them, the sooner we can _leave._ ”  
   
Allen rolled his eyes, turning to examine the products on the shelf. It was strange, looking at clothes wrapped in large plastic bags rather than hanging on a rack, but certainly no stranger than suddenly finding himself at approximately 1/12th his usual size. He walked towards one of the bags, considering the contents. They might be a bit big, but they'd fit ok.  
   
“Hey Michael, I think—” He was cut short as the door swung open with a soft _ding_ , a mother and her daughter filing into the small shop. Hynek dove for cover behind some boxes as the woman exchanged pleasantries with the cashier, her daughter pulling her towards the doll aisle.  
   
Michael gave the doll-sized man a concerned look as the two approached, visibly relaxing when Allen gave him a nod. He was too high and far back for the child to reach him, and relatively out of sight of the adult.  
   
The child ran through the aisle, excitedly pointing out the toys she wanted as her mother stood by, exhausted.  
   
“I'm sorry about her, she's just excited about those new Toni dolls.”  
   
“No worries. Kids will be kids, right?” Quinn smiled at her, keeping Allen in his peripheral vision, tension plain in his stance.  
   
“I'm sure you know how it is with your daughter.”  
   
“Niece, actually.” He offered, in an attempt to keep his cover story.  
   
“Oh! No children of your own, then? Any Misses?” Allen rolled his eyes at the blatant flirting. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was hide behind a kid's toy as _another_ young lady flirted with his partner.  
   
“Uh, no. Never got the chance, I guess.” Michael shot the doctor a panicked glance, begging for help. Hynek shrugged.  
   
“Oh, that's unfortunate… You know, I'm actually getting Sally here a doll to make up for all the trouble with the divorce. If she can get something good out of it, maybe she won't think of it as a bad thing, you know?” The woman sighed, batting her eyelashes at the captain. Allen had to fight the urge to sigh himself, a surge of jealousy rising in his chest.  
   
“Well, listen, I'm sure you're a great gal, and I'd _love_ to talk more, I really would, but I'm actually here on business, and I really gotta go. It was nice meeting you though!” Michael rushed, grabbing all of his things— including snatching up Hynek with a terrified squeal— and running back to the counter, shoving the Doctor in his pocket and setting everything on the counter.  
   
Except, instead of being thrust back into his chest pocket, the doctor was hastily swapped out with his wallet in his _pants_ pocket. Allen struggled to right himself from his awkward position in the even more awkward space. It was certainly less restrictive, but he knew that would change once the captain started walking.  
   
“Did you find everything ok?”  
   
“Yeah, thanks.”  
   
The conversation carried on far above him, loud yet distant, as two sets of footsteps approached from just as far below him.  
   
“Could I at least catch your name, soldier?”  
   
“Quinn. Look, I'm kind of busy so—”  
   
“I understand, but… maybe you can give me a call sometime once you get back home?” Allen heard a scrap of paper as it was passed to the captain, who mumbled a short goodbye before grabbing his bags and rushing out of the store.  
   
Allen's hypothesis was correct: the second the pilot's leg swung forward, the fabric around him constricted uncomfortably, and the swinging motion made him feel ill.  
   
“Michael…!” He groaned, trying to get himself in an upright position as the swaying slowed. Soon enough, a hand curled around him, scooping him out of his woolen prison before Michael ducked into the car, gently placing the small man on the dashboard and shutting the door.  
   
“Hey, Doc, sorry about that… are you ok?”  
   
Allen looked up at his partner, head spinning and vision blurry. Even with his vision impaired, he could clearly see the worry plastered on Quinn's face. He was leaning pretty close.  
   
“Fine, just… just a little dizzy. A bit nauseous…” He put a hand to his forehead, stunned when he didn't feel the familiar plastic frames on his face. “M— My glasses… where are my glasses? I just had them!”  
   
Michael patted himself down, reaching back into his pocket and pulling the item out with two fingers and examining them, just inches from his face.  
   
“Here, I got 'em. Might be a bit dirty, but… I don't think they're broken.” The captain mumbled, handing the small object back to their owner.  
   
Allen quickly wiped the fingerprints off and slid them back on his face while Michael started the car, driving back into the street.  
   
“Still want to stop and get a drink?”  
   
“Ugh, even more now. I _hate_ when girls fawn over me like that.”  
   
“Says the man that flirted with _college students._ ” Hynek scoffed, getting up and pacing along the dashboard. It was far easier to stand on than the fabric of Michael's pockets, despite the quivering of the car over every bump and crack.  
   
“Yeah, well… that was different.” Michael muttered, pulling into the liquor store parking lot and shooting a glance or two Allen's way, as he made himself comfortable on top of the radio.  
   
“Why, because they didn't have kids?”  
   
“Kids aren't the problem, trust me. It's… It's not important, ok? Do you wanna come in with me or not?”  
   
“Well, it'd be better than sitting in here… Just don't shove me in your pocket like that again.”  
   
“ _Definitely_ not. I didn't like feeling you squirm around in there…” Michael shuddered, offering a hand to the tiny doctor. “Shirt pockets only from now on, alright?”  
   
Allen nodded, stepping onto the odd surface. As many times as he'd been in Michael's hands through the day, he'd never really been paying enough attention to notice how _strange_ it felt under his feet. Shifting and dipping with the pressure from his weight, the muscles slightly twitching just under the surface. He kneeled into a sitting position before Michael finally moved, sliding the doctor back into his proper spot and making his way into the store.  
   
The professor settled into one of the corners, once again falling into the rhythm of Michael's body. Footsteps, heartbeat, breathing. It was strange how quickly he'd gotten used to the situation; but, then again, nothing that's happened recently could really be considered _normal._  
   
Once again, Michael entered the store with a _ding_ , exchanged a few words with the clerk, and headed straight for the aisles.  
   
“So, any preferences, little guy?” Michael asked, giving the doctor a light tap on the shoulder with a single finger.  
   
“I thought we agreed I shouldn't drink?”  
   
“Yeah, but, in case you change your mind… I think you've been through enough today to earn yourself a drink.”  
   
“But... I shouldn't.”  
   
“Just pick something. Please?”  
   
“Alright! Just— something light. A low percentage of alcohol. I don't really trust my body's capacity to handle large amounts of booze at this size.”  
   
“Alright, and what about dinner?”  
   
“At this point I'll take anything. I haven't eaten all day…”  
   
“I saw a cute little asian place down the street; we can grab some take-out and head to the hotel, drink some wine and wind down for the night. Look over the case and try to figure things out.”  
   
Allen nodded, mouth watering at just the thought of food.  
   
“That sounds _great_ , just try to hurry before I starve to death.” He'd really meant it as a joke, but he cringed once the words had left his mouth. He still wasn't sure how his body would react to the change… If it had developed a higher metabolism to deal with his difficulty to retain body heat, it wouldn't take very long for him to run out of nutrients. Michael chuckled warmly, blissfully unaware of the doctor's slight panic.  
   
“I had a feeling you'd say something like that.”


	2. A Sky Full of Stars

Allen fell silent, sitting quietly in thought as Michael finished running the rest of his errands. For the most part, the captain didn't press on it, just making a few offhand comments in the car every now and then. It was only once he shut the door to their hotel room that he really said anything about it, placing a hand gently over the tiny lump in his pocket.  
  
“You're awfully quiet in there… you ok? You didn't fall asleep on me again, did you?”  
  
“No, I'm just… thinking. About what I said earlier, about how I might not…” Hynek trailed off, a knot forming in his throat. “I just don't know how this is possible, or how my body is reacting to the change. Everything is different, and I… I don't know how to handle it, Michael…”  
  
Tears welled in his eyes as he hugged his knees, biting his lip to keep himself from sobbing. Michael's hand slowly wrapped around him, gingerly pulling him into the dim light. The pilot took a seat— slowly, so he wouldn't disturb the small doctor— resting his elbows on the table and looking down at the man curled up in his palm with soft, sorrowful brown eyes. Gently, he used his thumb to wipe the tears from Allen's cheeks, forcing him to look up at the giant.  
  
“I know, it's all so… complicated. I really wish it wasn't, but this is the hand that's been dealt to us, and we need to see it through. No matter what happens, though, I'll be right here to help you through it, ok? If ever anything feels weird, or something's wrong, just tell me and I'll help you through it.” Michael spoke softly, leaning so his face was just a few inches from where Allen sat, mesmerized by the sight before him. He'd never seen the captain look so… vulnerable.  
  
“I… Yeah. Thanks…” His shaky voice was just louder than a whisper, but Quinn was close enough to make out the words.  
  
“Now come on, we gotta stop crying before the food gets cold.” Michael joked, slowly coaxing a smile out of Allen. He set the doctor on the table and began rummaging through the bags on the floor, setting the takeout boxes on the table as he spoke. “Alright, I got almond chicken, rice, and egg rolls, and in here we should have some tiny plates and stuff.”  
  
Allen was practically drooling at the smell of it, wasting no time in attempting to climb onto one of the boxes and claw it open. The farthest he got was dangling halfway over the edge, barely prying the nearest flap from where it connected to the four others, before he was startled by Michael's laughter. He lost his grip, sliding off the top of the box and landing flat on his ass, knocking the air from his lungs.  
  
“Haven't you ever learned to wait?” Michael asked with an amused snort, easily pulling the box open as Hynek fixed him with a glare.  
  
“I thought I could at least open it…”  
  
“What, you can't wait five seconds for me to get you a plate?”  
  
“I just— I wanted to do _something_ by myself! I've been sitting around doing nothing all day, so I wanted to at least get my own food. Just a couple grains of rice or something, so I didn't feel as helpless.”  
  
“Well then it's too bad you were trying to open the egg roll box.” Michael smirked, pulling the rolls out of the box and setting them on his plate before setting a small, plastic plate in front of Allen, cutting off a small chunk and setting it on the doll-sized dish. “There. Now I'll see about getting you that rice.”  
  
Allen grabbed the food quickly, eagerly biting into the small portion as Michael shook his head, adding sections of the different dishes to their plates every so often as he got out of his uniform and into some more comfortable clothes. By the time he was done filling their plates— and Allen's was half empty— he was dressed in black slacks and a light blue button-up; not the more comfortable sleepwear Allen had expected him to put on, but he didn't question it.  
  
Michael worked on opening the wine as the professor watched, taking a swig straight from the bottle before attempting to pour some into a doll-sized mug— and failing miserably, causing the tiny man to choke over his laughter. The pilot shot him a playful glare as he tried to clean the mess up with a wad of cheap paper towels.  
  
“Hey, don't act like you could've poured it any better, that thing's _unreasonably_ tiny.”  
  
“I wasn't!” He shouted, failing to contain his smirk.  
  
Michael stood with a frustrated sigh, tossing the soaked paper into the trash and searching for something else he could use to wipe down the table. When he returned Allen's plate was empty, and the doctor had perched himself on Michael's plastic fork and begun picking rice from his plate.  
  
Michael smiled fondly at the strange sight, pushing the professor away from his plate as he took his seat.  
  
“You know, you could have asked. I would have given you more.”  
  
“You were too far, and it wouldn't have been worth waiting for you to return. Besides, I didn't think you would mind— it was just a little rice.”  
  
Michael shook his head, sliding Allen his wine and wiping the table down with an amused grin.  
  
“I don't mind, I just… It was kinda cute.”  
  
Allen huffed angrily, fixing the pilot with a glare as he sipped on his drink.  
  
“You think I'm cute just because I'm small.”  
  
“Nah, you were cute before that. So, listen… about the whole… y'know, _this_.” Michael mumbled, gesturing to Allen. “I think we need to call the generals.”  
  
“What?! Michael, you _know_ we can't—” Allen stood suddenly, the giant holding his hands up as he started to rant.  
  
“Let me finish! I was saying we should call them, not that we should tell them everything. I know you don't trust them; and believe me, neither do I, but the thing is… they might know a way to help you. So, I'm going to call them tonight and tell them that you went _missing_ , and I'll tell them about the machine, but not any of this. That way I can keep their hands off you for a bit longer, but eventually they'll figure it out, and… I don't know what I can do after that…”  
  
The pilot leaned on the table, a hand making its way towards the professor to comfort him. The small man sighed, running a hand through his hair and sitting back down on the table.  
  
“Ok, that sounds… better. But what if they… what if they can't help? What would they do with me?”  
  
“Nothing that I can't break you out of, that's for damn sure.” Michael muttered, taking another swig from the bottle as Allen finished his cup. “But, uh, now that all that's out of the way… I got you something while we were at the toy store— I thought it might help cheer you up after all the bullshit you had to deal with today.”  
  
The captain bent over, pulling something out of the bag and setting it on the table. Hynek walked over to examine the box, reading the label out loud.  
  
“ _One-of-a-kind functional miniature telescope_? Michael, what— how much did you _pay_ for this?!” Allen stared at the box, mouth agape, as he circled it, inspecting every last detail.  
  
“Not too much, don't worry. I was just thinking we could take it over to the window and test it out.”  
  
“Michael, I can't let you pay for this, I— it must've been at least $100!” Allen stared at the object in awe, the captain chuckling at the sight.  
  
“Do you wanna look at the real thing, or just stare at the box all day?”  
  
“No, I mean… you can return this right?”  
  
“Nope, no refund policy. Besides, it's already open.” Michael grinned mischievously, tearing open the plastic packaging and pulling the top of the wooden box open, setting the delicate item in front of the doctor.  
  
“It's… I mean, I've always wanted one like this but they're so expensive! I mean, the one I wanted was normal-sized, but still!” Allen smiled giddily, taking out the bronze pieces and inspecting each part of the tiny telescope. “It's a reflector telescope! It uses mirrors to magnify the image rather than lenses, so it gets a much clearer picture. Normally they'd cost anywhere from $100 to $300.”  
  
Michael smiled fondly as the professor explained the science behind the telescope, taking out sections of the device and explaining their purpose before shutting the case.  
  
“We should go and test it out! It would need to be outside, though. The reflection in the glass would obscure the image.”  
  
Michael's smile immediately fell, replaced with worry.  
  
“Are you sure we really need to go outside? If we turn the lights off—”  
  
“Michael, going outside won't kill me. Besides, I have you to protect me.”  
  
“Allen, the grass goes over your head. What if I lose you? Or if someone sees you?”  
  
“You won't lose me if you're really that worried. And no one's going to see me in the grass the middle of the night unless they're actively looking for me. Trust me, it'll be fine.” Allen put a gentle hand on Michael's clenched fist, smiling up at him pleadingly. The captain pressed a fist into his mouth, looking away as his expression softened and the muscles in his hand relaxed.  
  
“Alright, just… try not to take too long. I'll be right there if you need me.”  
  
Allen practically jumped into his hands, grinning from ear-to-ear as Michael brought him back up to his pocket. He picked up the small wood case and stepped into the hallway, the doctor leaning out of his pocket.  
  
“We should be able to see them really well here. It's not as dark as down south, but it's better than the city.”  
  
“Do you wanna drive somewhere else? I'm sure we can find a nice dark field not too far from here… Somewhere with less people too.”  
  
“Only if you want to. Which, given your earlier reaction, I'm assuming you do.”  
  
“Very much, yes.”  
  
Allen sighed, making himself comfortable in the _much_ more tolerable pocket for the car ride. The fabric was much thinner, and he unintentionally snuggled closer to the captain's chest as he stepped out into the cool night. He felt Michael tug his leather jacket a bit closer, zipping it up slightly and giving his pocket a reassuring pat.  
  
“Still ok? Is the jacket bothering you?”  
  
“No, I'm fine. Just a bit cold.”  
  
“Want me to zip it up a bit more? Shit, I should've brought you a warmer set of clothes! Should I go back?”  
  
Allen laughed, giving the wall of muscle beside him a pat that he _hoped_ was reassuring.  
  
“I'll be fine! We shouldn't take long, and I have you to keep me warm. Now hurry up, I want to test it out!”  
  
The drive was relatively quiet, the two of them sitting in calm silence with the radio, Michael occasionally humming along to some of the songs. By the time they arrived Allen was standing, supported by the weight of the jacket but straining to see around it.  
  
“Alright, we're here. Just stay close, _please?_ ” The pilot muttered, lowering his partner to the ground and setting the box nearby. The professor walked straight for the telescope, finding a good spot to set it up and dragging the box behind him.  
  
“Why are you so worried about _me_ wandering away? It's not like I'd get very far on these tiny legs— and besides, I'm not too fond of the idea of being alone like this. To most predatory animals I wouldn't make much more than a mouthful…”  
  
Michael cringed, his skin crawling as he looked around frantically, as if something were to pounce out of nowhere at any second. He heaved an anxious sigh, making himself comfortable on the grass and lighting up a cigarette as Allen set up the telescope.  
  
“If you were smaller I'd let you look through it but, unfortunately that's not really an option.”  
  
“That's alright, Doc. I prefer to see the stars through a cockpit, not a telescope.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. But even up there you could never see them this close. Especially with the dimensions condensed like this. It's got a smaller focal point, so while the telescope won't pick up as much light as a larger one, it _will_ give me a clearer image.”  
  
“I cannot possibly tell you how fascinating that is.” Michael deadpanned, smirking around his cigarette, smoke curling from his lips. He leaned forward, settling his chin on his fists, creating a protective barrier around the scientist.  
  
“Shut up!” Allen chuckled, not turning away from the telescope as the large figure behind him moved, making his hair stand on end as the light of the moon was overshadowed by his partner's form.  
  
They stayed like that for almost an hour, Michael listening intently as Allen described the different planets and galaxies, fascinated by how clearly he could see them. After a while— by the time his cigarette had burnt out and Allen's initial awe had worn off— Michael's smile fell as he noticed a slight tremble in the doctor’s form.  
  
Allen stiffened as the pilot wrapped a hand around him, slowly melting into the warmth with a yawn.  
  
“I guess I should've let you get that jacket, huh?” He laughed awkwardly, wrapping his arms around himself.  
  
“No, I was overreacting, you're alright. Are we done here yet?”  
  
“Yeah, I just need to put the telescope away.”  
  
“I can do it faster, you just warm up, alright?” Michael grinned, gently slipping the professor into his pocket. Allen settled himself into the corner sleepily, trying to keep himself awake as his partner picked up his stuff and drove back to the hotel.  
  
Michael didn't say anything as he got ready for bed, trying not to wake his small partner. He went through the motions as usual: brushing his teeth, setting up Allen's bed, and gently pulling the tiny doctor out of his pocket, slipping him under the stiff doll blankets.  
  
He changed into more comfortable clothes and settled into the hotel bed, watching the professor toss and turn uncomfortably. After a moment of thought he reached out, plucking the doctor from his spot on the nightstand and depositing him on the pillow beside him. Aside from a few noises, he seemed to stay mostly asleep.  
  
Michael rolled out of bed, rifling through his luggage quietly. He barely caught the barely-audible muttering from the bed, Allen blinking at him sleepily.  
  
“Michael? What are you doing…?”  
  
“Just a sec. I'm getting you a more comfortable bed. A-ha!” He grinned, finally finding the thing he was looking for and settling back into bed.  
  
Before he could ask what was happening, Allen was wrapped in a soft, light blue fabric. A silk handkerchief. It smelled like cheap cologne and cigarettes, but it seemed relatively new.  
  
“You have a handkerchief?”  
  
“Yeah, I wear it to special events. Promotional galas and things like that. I keep it around just in case, and I figured it'd make a better blanket than _that_ thing.”  
  
“Oh… thanks.” Allen smiled, settling into the plush pillow and looking up at Michael.  
  
It was jarring, being so _close_ to someone so _large_. And it was even more jarring to realize that it was _Michael_. He just couldn't wrap his mind around any of it, and it pissed him off. He _hated_ feeling so… insignificant. He rolled over, curling up with a sigh as he tried to ignore it.


End file.
